A different sort of life
by SisterPuppy
Summary: Godrics Hollow is in ruins, and Harry is now an Orphan. It is now up to Dumbledore to make sure baby Harry has the sort of upbringing he deserves and needs. Petunia Dursley will be his second choice, but only after he fails to secure his first. ABANDONED?
1. Prologue 1

**Disclaimer: **See Profile Page.

This is a crossover between Harry Potter, and Christine Feehan's _Dark_ Series. The issues concerning the Carpathian race will be touched on now and then, and explained to some degree, **but **it won't feature heavily. I will concentrate more on the interactions between certain characters of the _Dark_ series and Harry.

**

* * *

****Prologue 1**

A spine-chilling song of mourning and grief filled the room, its heart-rending melody seeming to seep into the very stone walls of the castle, even sweeping out of the room and down the staircase, gripping the inhabitants of the magical portraits in its disconsolate tones.

Behind a huge oval desk, its very surface crammed with parchments and important documents, an old man buried his head in his hands and wept, his shoulders shaking with his anguish. The portraits of former headmaster's looked down upon the distressed man in silence and pity, united in their sad regret that they had not been able to help more.

The Phoenix, whose song had just confirmed the destruction of Godrics Hollow, glided to rest in front of its master. Red, Gold and Scarlet head coming forth to rest on his companions, communicating all the comfort he could offer. They remained this way for a long while, minutes of time, helping to diminish the agony to a throb, and the heart breaking grief to an ache.

Inhaling unsteadily, the tear stricken face of Albus Dumbledore rose until his eyes were level with that of his glorious avian. Inconsolable blue eyes, without its customary twinkle, met golden amber, and a silent communication proceeded.

Visions were sent forth from the beautiful familiar, showing the destruction of what was once a home. The charred remains of a two storey house, its sections still alight with magical flames, was revealed, hideous and angry, nothing like the warm comfortable dwelling it had been only hours before. Residue of what was once protection and secrecy wards, lay scattered in the air, unseen to the human eyes.

And there it was.

The darker and heavier presence of a recently performed killing curse, its empty glowing haze signifying its success.

Fawkes opened his mind more, including sounds. The cackling and popping of still burning embers, the sound of falling debris……and the unmistakable cries of a baby.

Rearing back in shock Albus' eyes narrowed in confusion before widening in understanding. Staring back into the eyes of his phoenix he asked to be shown the little baby. There was no mistake, young Harry was still alive, and there was definitely no mistaking the residue of a failed unforgiveable on him….or ignoring the curse scar on his forehead.

"My God," he whispered hoarsely, quickly taking out a piece of parchment from his draw and grabbing a feathered quill.

Face set with determination and purpose he swiftly composed a letter, reading over it again he rolled the parchment and tied it, before giving it to his familiar.

"Fawkes, take this to Hagrid. Wait until he has read it, and then deliver Hagrid to Godrics Hollow. Leave him there, and return to me. Promptly, without delay my friend."

Trilling in comprehension the beautiful bird took the parchment in his claws and disappeared in a burst of bright flames, leaving behind an even wearier master.

Exhaling, Dumbledore ran an aged hand over his face, feeling like he had aged ten years in a matter of seconds. Moving towards his fireplace, he reflected on what he had to do, and how he had to do it. Ignoring his still raw grief at the deaths of the night, he mentally composed what he had to say to Lady Bagnold - Supreme Lady of Magic, and to his Order. He then had to make sure that Privet Drive would be ready, before finally, finally, contacting Mikhail.

* * *

Hagrid, 

The Potters home at Godrics Hollow has been destroyed. I mourn over the loss of James and Lily, but young Harry is still alive.

I need you to go with Fawkes and retrieve him. Keep him with you for the next few hours until I have prepared Harry's new home. It is very important that Harry is in your care, regardless of who may try to stop you.

Fawkes will be sent to you when all is ready.

Be safe my friend.

Albus

* * *

It was almost two in the morning, and Hogwarts was illuminated only by the full moon. In the distance a pack of wolves could be heard howling in unison, their voices providing an eerie milieu to the nights events. Off Hogwarts, in the wizarding town of Hogsmeade, time had been forgotten as news spread of the miraculous happenings of the night. The Wizard floo network was busy, people trying to discern for themselves the truth in the rumours, it seemed too much to hope. 

All this seemed to escape the inhabitants of a small (by Giant standards) hut off the grounds of the majestic school. A light burned brightly within, as the silhouette of its large owner could be seen slowly pacing from one side of the hut to the other. A black Motorcycle stood outside, next to the pumpkin patch, and behind a giant barrel of water.

Inside, Hagrid paced and hummed a lullaby, occasionally moving his right hand in what would have been a rocking motion. Looking down at his precious bundle, the half-giant sniffed yet again, taking in the vulnerable looking thing, with a full mop of black hair and dark lashes. Little Harry fit in his hand with room to spare, and he still didn't understand why anyone would have wanted to harm such a beautiful creation.

Sniffing again, Hagrid wiped his face with the sleeve of his coat. Tears were running down his face, fat large drops which had escaped his attempt to halt them fell into his wild beard. Baby Harry winced in pain as one large drop fell onto his still bleeding scar, red and swollen, it stood out angrily on his pale forehead. Lifting up the edge of the baby blanket he gently and lightly patted Harry's forehead.

The little child, sensing the ministrations of someone other then his mother started to squirm and fuss again, whimpering for his mama in his uneasy sleep, sucking gently on his bottom lip.

'Poor Lily an' James,' Hagrid thought to himself as he sniffed yet again. Once more resuming his pacing and rocking, he took large ragged breaths, trying to restrain himself from sobbing aloud.

He had been waiting for Dumbledore's phoenix for almost two hours now, having arrived from the Potters former residence with Harry in hand after an hour's journey. He had been worried when he got there, apprehension which was replaced by horror when he saw the charred remains. He hadn't been able to stifle the cry that had escaped him, nor the moan of pity that he had felt when he saw young Sirius Black scrambling over the smoking ruins with his Godson. He had felt distressed taking Harry from Sirius, and practically hated himself as he watched Sirius wrap his godson up in his baby blanket before placing a very soft kiss on his head. Sirius had then given his bike to Hagrid to bring baby Harry here, once more kissing his godson before he rode off.

Sighing heavily, Hagrid sat down in his chair and looked down at the small child in his arms. Even he knew that things weren't going to be easy for the young lad, there were still death eaters running around, and Harry was just a baby. And then there was the fact that young Harry had no parents.

'Dumbledore will take care of it,' he thought sadly, 'good man Dumbledore, he'll figure something out.'

* * *

Stepping out of his fireplace, Dumbledore dusted himself off before casting a wandless cleaning charm over his robes. Brow furrowed in thought he walked across his office to sink heavily into his chair. 

He had had a difficult time at the ministry. After years of constant threats and attacks from the Dark Lord, the ministry had been a little reluctant to believe that the threat was gone. He had shown them what Fawkes had shown him, they had gasped when they saw the Potter's home, and letting them see what he had seen with young Harry provoked an outcry of shock, and it was only then that they started to hope. Visiting Godrics Hollow and its destruction, fully convinced the doubting Thomases.

Those that had known Lily and James Potter mourned on sight, others apparated away to share the glad tidings and miraculous news. The events of the night would soon descend into Wizarding legend, and would become noted in every single history book: Harry Potter destroyed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; Harry Potter survived the Killing Curse.

Albus had sent Emmeline Vance, an Auror who was also part of the Order of the Phoenix to retrieve Sirius, "Find him, and bring him to me Ms Vance."

He had then returned with Her Ladyship to the Ministry, where he had proceeded to show her the Prophecy concerning Harry, it was important that the Prophecy be kept within The Hall of Prophecy, just in case anything should happened to him, Albus Dumbledore.

If he had any reservations that Lady Bagnold would object to keeping the matter confidential, he need not have. She agreed instantly to keep it between the two of them, and enlightened him as to why she was being so agreeable as she wrote out an Order that allowed the Headmaster to put the prophecy in the Hall himself.

"I may be Supreme Lady of Magic, but I am a wife and mother first and foremost. Lily and James Potter were a credit to parents everywhere. There will be parents out there that will be flooding my ministerial office with letters concerning young Mr Potter's welfare. If having all this secrecy surrounding his whereabouts as well as this prophecy is vital to his safety and Health, then so be it. I will do whatever is needed of me."

Signing at the bottom of the parchment and tapping her wand to the corner to affix her seal of approval, Lady Bagnold looked up and then smiled sadly. "I would have done the same if I had been in their position. To protect my family I would have done anything. They trusted **you, **Albus. It is the only reason why I will not interfere in your plans."

She then authorised and sent a full team of Unspeakables to Little Whinging, Surrey, to erect protection and magical-detection wards, as per Albus instructions.

"I am glad Albus that maybe the dark times have passed us by. Mayhap my grandchildren will not live in the fear that gripped us. But, I know that it would have been much worse had you not been here to help us. Should there ever be a time when we do not heed your warnings, the Ministry and the Wizarding world would suffer. Thank you…..I think that these days may be the last of my reign. I want to see and experience the peace that we have all worked so hard for."

Looking back over the last few hours, Dumbledore quietly concurred that it could have been more difficult to handle had they been under a more incompetent minister. The Ministry's role was now over concerning young Harry, and he was now going to have to contact the person in whom he was hoping would take young Harry in. He didn't trust everyone in the Ministry and the sending of wizards to Privet Drive was nothing more but a distraction. But all his plans for Harry's safety and upbringing would be nothing if he did not get Mikhail's agreement.

Pulling his golden pocket watch out of his robes he stared thoughtfully at it for a few minutes. Nodding his head, he walked behind his desk and sat down. Pulling out a parchment and a quill he constructed another letter, this time it was shorter then the previous one, in fact it only had one sentence. Handing it to Fawkes, he placed a wrinkled hand on his familiars head and stroked the silky feathers.

"This letter goes to Prince Mikhail my friend. Hurry now, the quicker we get his agreement, the safer Harry will be."

In a flurry of flames, the phoenix disappeared, Dumbledore sighing heavily leaned back in his chair to wait. Staring at something that only he could see, he thought of everything that he knew about Prince Mikhail Dubrinsky and the Carpathian Race.


	2. Prologue 2

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* * *

**Prologue 2**

Albus Dumbledore knew three definite things about Mikhail Dubrinsky. One: He was the leader of his people, their Prince, he was the law, he was the judge and if needed, he would be the executioner. Two: He was immortal, to a certain extent. Mikhail was over a thousand years old. He remembered the days when his race walked among Wizards, he even remembered the founders. But he was not the most ancient. Three: He was Carpathian.

And that was what defined him. The first two things he knew about Mikhail catered to or was in direct association with the third. Carpathians were people of the night, they could not walk in direct sunlight, but if needed they could walk in the early morning rays and the after noon sun, just not in the heat of midday. They lived on blood, but they could not live on that alone. The males of their species were powerful, invulnerable beings. With awesome strength and…..potent magic.

The females of their race were much more….softer. They were complete opposite to their male counterparts. They embodied love and care, and they were as intelligent as they were beautiful. But they were no less dangerous. The older they became, the more powerful they could become. But females in their species were so rare, the last time he had been in contact with the Prince they still only had one unmatched female, and the last female had been born 600 years prior.

It was the only Achilles heal that the Carpathians seemed to have. For their race to survive an flourish they needed to procreate, for them to procreate they needed to find their lifemates. To make matters worse the male Carpathians lost all their feelings at around 200 years old. They saw only in shades of grey, black and white, they were cursed to see only darkness until they met their mates. The loss of colour was accompanied only by their loss of all emotion, whether it was love, hate, joy, sorrow or regret. They felt nothing, and that was dangerous in such beings who needed Blood to survive, and who were so powerful. The more the centuries progressed the darker their existence got, a majority depended on their willpower and sense of Carpathian honor to stop from killing while feeding.

It was a bleak survival, and the only release for one without a lifemate was to walk into the sun. But for some, even that was no longer an option. For some Ancients who had lived for thousands of years, they were much too powerful to 'die' in the sunlight, so the only other option was to become the undead. To become Vampire.

Vampires were Carpathians without a soul. Males who had completely lost their way, all hope of ever feeling again, all hope of ever finding their mates. In the hope of feeling again they took joy in the kill. Torturing and hunting innocent mortals for the thrill, for the rush of power. The only way of stopping or destroying them was to remove their hearts from their body and incinerating it using lightning, a feat that could only be done by a Carpathian Hunter.

With every hunt done by a Carpathian, the stronger the call for the kill, the bleaker their existence became. It was a never ending cycle that could only be stopped by finding their other half. Mikhail had been desperately seeking answers the last he spoke to him some 20 odd years ago, but the prince at least, was safe. His lifemate had been found.

They had first met 120 years ago, when he saved Mikhail's brother's life. Albus Dumbledore had just resigned from the Department of Mysteries and was one month into his journey around the world, his current stop, Carpathian Mountains, Romania. He was camping (turning a rather lovely cave into a home, transfigurating sticks was much fun) and drawing stars when he stumbled across him. Jacques had been weak with blood loss and escaping from a pack of fanatical vampire hunters when he became stuck in his wards. Albus had taken one look at him and although he knew that Jacques could easily rip him into pieces, he had felt compassion for the young lad (so it seemed) and protected him. A couple of stupefication curses, confounding charms and a whole lot of artistic transfiguration, had gotten rid of the rabid pack persuing the handsome Carpathian. Healing him, was an altogether different matter.

Albus quicky found out that normal healing charms wouldn't work, so, being the intelligent, cunning, resourceful male that he was, he decided to invent his own. Unfortunately, he had been so involved with his healing art, that he had not noticed that his wards had been breached, and the only warning that he was in great great danger was when he was thrown across the room. He woke up from his trip to the unconscious later to find a mildly apologetic Aidan (one couldn't really tell), who introduced himself as a hunter ("How interesting," he'd uttered), and took a look around his temporary home to find two other rather predatory strangers, who were not even half as 'friendly' as the golden haired Aidan.

Explanations had ensued of course, and the other hunters introduced themselves once they'd deduced that he was not a threat (it helped that they had his wand). The black haired male with the unusual slanting silver eyes was Gregori Daratrazanoff, Carpathian healer, hunter and the Prince's Lieutenant. The male who looked like a more dangerous, harder and older version of Jacques, had hair that was the color of dark coffee beans and eyes that were black obsidian, he was Mikhail Dubrinsky, the Prince.

He'd watched as Gregori healed Jacques, and then watched as they put him into the earth, right there in the middle of his 'living room'. They had explained to him why they'd done it after sensing his interest, and Gregori, who probably wasn't the type to 'share' anything seemed quite interested in the Wizarding healing arts. All three of the males seemed quite taken aback by Albus' easy going nature, and those damnable twinkling eyes. It was a sign of how 'fond' they had gotten of him that all three of the males went out of their way to visit him every once in a while, and Dumbledore enjoyed his stay in the Carpathian mountains so much that he stayed for another three years. He even tried to help them with their search for the cause of the declining female population in their species, and he 'borrowed' a book on Ancient wizarding magic from the Department of Mysteries, hoping that it would help them some. It was during his time in Romania that he found Fawkes, or rather, Fawkes found him. The Carpathians seemed to enjoy spending time in the Phoenix presence, for all thought they had lost all sense of feelings, the calm that Fawkes seemed to radiate did much to aid their troubled thoughts.

The increase of Vampire hunters and fanatics in the region finally pushed Mikhail to move his people for safety reasons. It brought an end to their association, but not their friendship. They had kept in touch, through letters, and occasional visits. But the visits were long and far in between. It was with the Carpathians that he had sought solace with after his defeat of Grindlewald, because only they would have truly understood the concept of 'monster within'. With his involvement in the Wizarding world stepping up a notch, and the Carpathians ongoing search becoming more and more desperate, the letters seemed to be the only thing keeping each party sane. But then Voldemort came along, and the letters had to stop. He had been far too busy trying to keep alive among other things, and Fawkes was his most trusted communication with his allies. But after 20 odd years Mikhail was going to get a letter, asking to speak to him. His only hope was that the situation concerning his own people wasn't so bad that they wouldn't assist him in his.

The Venerable Wizard came out of his stupor with a start when Fawkes appeared before him, same parchment in hand. Unrolling it with almost steady hands, Albus read the note written under his own.

**Mikhail,**

**I desperately need to speak to you in the next hour.**

**Albus.**

_**Of course my old friend. It has been two hours since rising; I have nothing else to do. Raven and I await you.**_

_**Mikhail**_

Letting out a breath that he did not know he had been holding, Albus looked up and smiled at his Phoenix before grabbing on to his tail feathers. One small step at a time…..

They disappeared in a burst of flames.

* * *

He appeared in a moderate sized castle nestled in the edges of a cliff. The room that he was in was fully furnished in priceless antiques. The drapes in the room had been pulled open, inviting in the bright light of the moon. A gentle breeze seemed to wrap its way around one of the curtains, billowing out in quite an impressive display that reminded Dumbledore strongly of Severus Snape. The Doors out to the Balconies were wide open, and the smell of wildflowers drifted into the room. Looking around, Dumbledore saw no portraits, just priceless paintings. _Very_ Priceless if the Vincent Van Gogh and the Salvador Dali were any indication. 

"When you have finished scrutinizing my living room, Albus, mayhaps you could share your findings with us?"

Turning around slowly the Hogwarts Headmaster came face to face with the owner of the castle he was in, and the paintings. A huge smile spread across the old man's face, one speaking of affection between long time friends, as he looked the Prince over.

With a gloomy sigh and a twinkle in his eyes he took his friend into a warm embrace, "It is remarkably unfair that I should have to age so much when you will never age a day over 30."

Laughing happily and returning the embrace, Mikhail stepped back and clasped the elder (physically speaking) in the way of Carpathian warriors, hand to forearm.

"What happened to Death being the next great adventure?"

"There is no use going on the next great adventure if I can barely walk because of an aching back and old bones," he quipped in return.

This time, the Prince wasn't the only one to laugh, and looking around the room, Dumbledore saw that Mikhail's lifemate wasn't the only one in attendance.

"Gregori?" he uttered in pleasant surprise.

The Healer smiled, and like Mikhail greeted him both with an embrace, and in the warriors way. "It is much a pleasure to see you again Albus, it has been a very long time."

Nodding in agreement, Albus smiled sadly, and then greeted Raven warmly ("My dear you are a sight for sore eyes"), and accepting the introduction to Gregori's own lifemate ("Congratulations Gregori", "You are just as beautiful as your mother").

Sitting down in the comfortable chair, tea in hand, and pleasantries out of the way, Albus unconsciously projected uncertainty and worry. Mentally communicating with each other, Mikhail and Gregori agreed that whatever it was that Albus had need to speak with them about, it was of the uttermost importance.

After a long moment of silence, Raven decided that the revered Wizard needed to be prompted to speak.

"Whatever it is Albus, it cannot be that bad," she said gently.

Heaving a huge sigh, Dumbledore put his teacup down and folded his hands in his lap.

"In order for you to understand, I would have to explain the events that have been plaguing the Wizarding Society since I last wrote to you. How many years has it been? 10? 20? I only ask that you not interrupt until I am done."

Seeing their nod of agreements Dumbledore started explaining:

"Mikhail, Gregori, you know the events surrounding Grindlewald. He was obsessed with purifying the Wizarding world. In defeating him, I had hoped, but I knew it would be an empty hope, that the prejudice surrounding the purity of blood, would finally be laid to rest. Not the case.

Grindlewald was destroyed but other Dark Lords followed, yet none as dangerous or even as powerful as Grindlewald. The Ministry and their Aurors could handle them easily enough. Until Voldemort. Voldemort, like Grindlewald was just as persuasive, as compelling, and captivating. Unlike Grindlewald, Voldemort was much more powerful, he had something that previous Dark Lords could never have, and that was lineage. Voldemort descends from probably the greatest Dark Lord in the history of Wizards, Salazar Slytherin, with such blood like that running through his veins, there was no way he could fail.

For the last ten years, Voldemort has systematically attacked everything that Wizards hold dear. And although his physical attacks were devastating, he was just as brilliant in toying with the mindset of the wizarding community. His success is apparent in that a majority of the population will not say his name. The very utterance of his name is enough to cause a riot. Even his other Pseudonyms are said with trepidation and fear of retribution. Such fear, it was crippling.

The state of the Wizarding world progressively worsened, over the past year whole families have been wiped out. Many wizards and witches have escaped into the Non-magical world to hide, the population of Hogwarts has declined rapidly over the last five years, and it will be a while before magical children would enjoy the same freedom as past pupils before Grindlewald, and before Voldemort.

In October of 1979, one of my staff members, Sibyll Trelawney made a prediction, a prophecy if you will, on the future of one little child. I have seen this vision so many times that I could recite it word for word. _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._

In July 1980, or towards the end of the month to be most exact, two children were born that could have fit this prophecy. Neville Longbottome and Harry Potter. Both were born on the 31st of the month. The minute they were born, I informed their parents of the Prophecy. They both decided that the Fidelius Charm would be safer for their children, and they went into hiding.

Until earlier tonight. Voldemort chose to bring things to a head and chose Harry Potter as the one who would most likely be the child of the Prophecy. I have a few ideas of how he may have interfered with the Fidelius Charm, but needless to say, both James and Lily Potter died this night trying to protect their son. Lily Potter, through ways I do not know, managed to cast an Ancient form of Magic on her son, and her love protected him from his own sure death.

The curse returned to its caster, leaving nothing but a scar on baby Harry, and breaking Voldemort….physically. The wizarding world is rejoicing, but although I am relieved that it is over for now, I do not fully believe that he has been destroyed. There is also too many of his followers within the Wizarding world that would like nothing more but to gain vengeance for their master by killing young Harry. It is something I will try prevent for as long as I am able."

Leaning back in his chair, Albus Dumbledore steepled his fingers and looked over his half-moon glasses towards the Prince. Raven and Savannah looked distressed at the thought of so much destruction for purification, and was saddened at the thought that it wasn't all over yet.

"What would you like us to do Albus?" Mikhail asked slowly and carefully.

"I am no longer as strong as I once was. I would love nothing better but to take young Harry and raise him myself, but it is not possible. If there is a chance that Voldemort will come back then I must be prepared, greater men then I have stumbled by letting their emotions cloud their judgement. And there is no doubt about it; I would love the young child like my own.

I could leave him with his mother's sister. Petunia Dursley has the benefit of having Lily's bloods run through her veins. I could manipulate that into blood protection for Harry, especially with the residue of ancient magic from his mother on him. But that is the only benefit I can come up with. Petunia is unfortunately very close-minded. She would come to resent Harry, and abhor his….gifts. That hatred of anything…abnormal could drive her to react in….madness. I cannot leave Harry in such an environment; it would be a death knell to him. But it would be my second choice if my first does not happen, Harry's safety is more important to be at the moment then his happiness.

The other option is to find a strong Wizarding family and leave him there. I can think of so many families that would love him as their own, and would not think twice about bringing him up. I thought of the Longbottoms, both parents are Aurors, and they both know what it is like to have a child on which a prophecy hangs. Then there are the Weasley's, a respectable wizarding family with an abundance of love and mutual respect, if nothing else. The Abbott's, the Wood's, the Bone's family, all great families in which Harry would thrive. Alas, it would be too much to ask from them. Accepting Harry into their home would also mean accepting the danger that comes with him. Then there is the fame, being famous before he even goes to Hogwarts? It is enough to swell any young man's head.

And then I thought of you, Mikhail."

Pausing, he looked over at the Prince and his Lieutenant. The Prince only had his eyebrow raised, while Gregori, well, he was acting Gregori, which meant no reaction what so ever.

"You are asking **me**, Albus, to take Harry Potter in?" Mikhail asked curtly.

Albus slowly dipped his head in an affirmative answer, and resumed watching him. It was obvious that he was now having a telepathic conversation with the other members in the Room; it was an uncomfortable feeling to be talked about while being present, but Dumbledore had expected it the minute he made that proposal.

"Why?" Mikhail asked coolly, almost ten minutes later.

"Other then the fact that you are powerful? Honourable? Influential? Safe?

Wizards and Humans do not know you exist. Your wards are such that only a phoenix could get through. It is stronger then even the wards of Hogwarts and those have been erected since before our first headmaster was born.

You said it yourself. The females of your race are capable of so much love, the healing kind of love. Harry will need that now, more then ever. Both of his parents are dead, he will be in a new environment, and he will one day be the greatest Wizard of our time. Harry will need the kind of love that only a mother can provide. And it is my hope that should you agree to have Harry with you, that your lifemate will love him enough that his nightmares will cease to scare him. And have no doubt, he will have nightmares.

Look at yourself Mikhail through my eyes. I see a man who has led his people through their darkest years. You are a man who understands failure, who understands consequences and who understands pain. You know what it is like to have the future on a race on your shoulders, and you are at one with the emotions that that sort of burden could entail. You have been disciplined, your very actions are control, yet you are free to love. You care deeply, you have much affection and you are completely protective of anything you care for.

Harry will need that. He will need the discipline as he grows older, and he will need someone who understands burden. He will need a father figure, greater and more powerful then he could ever be, yet just as vulnerable and human as he could be at his weakest.

But probably the most important to me, Mikhail, is that you are Immortal. If you should leave this world and walk into the next it would be of your own choosing and no-on else's. I know that you have enemies, but you have so many loyal ancients that would watch your back if you ask for it. With much death in his life, Harry needs the stability of thinking his parents will be there for him. If Voldemort should return, then more people will fall around Harry, he will need you. It is a huge burden to ask you to live, but there you go.

There are so many reasons Mikhail, I could sit here all night, but unfortunately there is a small time period in which the blood magic could be invoked if I am to leave young Harry with Petunia. I am asking much of you and our friendship my old friend, but this is more important to me then words could ever express."

Closing his eyes, drained of all energy now that it was all out in the open, Albus waited, hands still steepled, for Mikhails decision. He hoped and prayed that it would go the way he wanted it to. He would never forgive himself if he left Harry with Petunia, but to save Harry from his future mistakes, as well as the mistakes of others, he would do it. And hate himself all the more for it.

Moments, what seemed like hours, later, Mikhail spoke.

"Both Raven and I would be happy and honoured to make Harry our own."

Albus Percival Wulfuric Brian Dumbledore could not, even if he had tried, contain the tear that trailed down his aged cheek.

* * *

**Right, so a few facts about Carpathians in this chapter.You'll probably be reading more as the story progresses, but like I said in the first chapter, I will not be featuring their current issues heavily in this story. This is about Harry's upbringing.**

**In case a few of you want to read the _Dark _Series that I'm using in this book:  
Mikhail Dubrinsky and Raven Dubrinsky have their own story (again, not going to go into it), it's called 'Dark Prince' and it's basically the start of everything. The entire series (well, duh) are written by Christine Feehan. She's quite an awesome author.  
Gregori and Savannah, are main characters in the fourth of the Dark Series called 'Dark Magic'. Savannah is Raven and Mikhail's daughter. Gregori is Mikhail's second and their people's primary healer.  
Jacques (who is mentioned in this chapter) is Mikhails younger brother by 200 years or so, his lifemate is Shea, and after the events of her story (second in the Carpathian series, 'Dark Desire'), she becomes a healer and a researcher too. She's like an older, Irish version of Hermione.**

**There will be other Carpathians coming in now and then, and they'll be introduced as we go along, but again, the only people that will feature heavily are those that I've mentioned so far.**

**Oh, by the way. Thank you for Reading.**


	3. Grieving

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**Grief**

Feeling a pair of eyes on him, Hagrid woke groggily from the impromptu nap that he had taken while rocking the one year old to sleep. Opening his eyes tiredly he jumped with shock at seeing golden-amber eyes staring into his so intensely. If that wasn't enough the fact that the red and golden phoenix was perched on the back of his chair looking over his head, beak upside down, would have seemed quite funny if the atmosphere hadn't been rife with much tension.

Harry, already in an uneasy sleep, had woken at the jarring the shock had caused, and had started to whimper and fuss again. Hagrid's patting and rocking did nothing to calm the little boy, and it seemed that with every step in Hagrid's pacing the young infant seemed to grow more and more inconsolable.

Seeing that his stare-victim was now awake, the magical bird hopped off the back of the chair and coasted to land lightly on the table in front of the pacing half-giant. Disregarding the chaos that he had unwittingly caused, he proudly held out a talon, and the scroll within it.

Moving quickly, Hagrid took the scroll with his free left hand and with much creative manoeuvring he managed to unroll the parchment and read the message within.

**Hold on to Fawkes Hagrid.**

**Albus.**

Letting the little scroll unroll itself, Hagrid took a confused and fatigued look at his clock (4am), and then another perplexed and frustrated look at the Phoenix. In return, the majestic creature flapped his wings gently and glided into the air before him. Shrugging his large shoulders, the gamekeeper pulled the wailing child closer to him and reaching out his large fingers grasped Fawkes tail. He could feel nothing more but a faint prickle in his fingers before the scene before him changed from his modest quarters in his hut to the rather impressive and sizeable room that was the Headmaster's office.

Releasing his hold on Fawkes tail, he turned around to see the only other occupant of the room.

"Headmaster, sir," he almost shouted in relief.

The respected and in many ways revered wizard, came forth, arms outstretched, and took the little bundle gently out of the discouraged man's hands. Rocking him lightly, the elder wizard crooned and hummed, mumbling little words of encouragement to the little boy.

Having calmed the boy down to some extent, Hagrid looked on as Dumbledore summoned a house-elf and requested a bottle of milk for young Harry. Still rocking and soothing the young infant, Dumbledore, without looking up, dismissed Hagrid.

"I am afraid you will be in need of your sleep Hagrid. I will need you tonight to deliver young Harry here to Lily's sister's home in Surrey. So get as much sleep as you can. I will look after Harry for now."

Nodding, Hagrid said goodnight to the Wizard and without looking back, he opened the office door and went down the revolving staircase.

Had he looked behind him as he left, he would have seen the headmaster sitting in his huge chair, tenderly bottle feeding the infant saviour of the Wizarding world, one chubby youthful hand gripping an aged finger rather tightly as if his life depended on it.

* * *

As Dumbledore fed, bathed and changed baby Harry, downstairs Hagrid was making his way slowly but purposefully towards his home, and his bed. He looked like a man with a lot of his mind, yet with absolutely no energy to figure it out. Every now and then he would come across one of the castle's many ghosts, yet for one of the first times since he first came to Hogwarts, he avoided returning any of their greetings. 

Sighing in relief as he neared the Entrance to the courtyard, he picked up a bit more speed, and as he came around the corner, and almost walked over the transfiguration professor.

"Ahhh," he uttered in dismay, "really sorry abou' tha' Perfessor McGonagall." Face falling apologetically, he reached out a hand to help steady the curiously puffy eyed, and pale professor.

"It's alright Hagrid," she said placatingly, trying unsuccessfully to dodge the giant's huge hands. "But next time, please try not run around corners."

Hagrid nodded contritely, and then giving a half-smile proceeded to step around the Professor and resume his journey towards his bed. He barely took two steps before McGonagall stopped him.

"Where did you just come from Hagrid?" she asked enquiringly, and in an off-handed tone of voice, mind still on the nights revelations.

"Perfessor Dumbledore's Office, was droppin' off Young 'Arry," he said dejectedly, not realising that he wasn't supposed to say anything about Harry being there.

"Harry?" the usually strict professor said brow wrinkled in bewildered contemplation.

"Yeh, 'Arry. Poor thin' cryin' fer 'is Mummy. An' pro'bly 'is Daddy to mind. Poor Lily an' James…"

Trailing off and finishing with a large and loud sniffle, Hagrid continued his walk towards his Hut. He was almost halfway across the courtyard when the shocked (and even more pale) Minerva McGonagall stopped him with a strangled and hoarse, "Harry's at Hogwarts!"

"O' course!" he said matter of factly, "The 'eadmaster sen' me to pick 'im up. Im sup'osed to drop 'im off ter 'is Aunts 'ouse lat'r tonigh'."

Minerva's eyes widened on the last before spinning around in a flurry of robes she practically ran through the entrance way, leaving the Hogwarts game-keeper staring after her in puzzlement.

"E'rythin' so strange," he said with a confused shake of the head, lumbering on towards his bed, and towards his elusive rest.

* * *

Minerva was becoming mighty irritated. She had been standing in front of the bloody Gargoyle for almost 10 minutes throwing password after password at it, but it still would not open, which meant that Albus had changed the password, and had not thought to inform anyone of it. Even the emergency trigger for the gargoyle refused to work. 

"Lemon-drops." Nope.

"Candy fizzes." Wrong again.

"Acid Drops." Nothing.

"Lemon Boomerangs." Still Nothing.

She was now at the end of her tether, the nights events were finally going to put her over the edge and all because the entrance to the Headmaster's office wouldn't open. Bowing her head in grief and frustration, she put one unsteady hand over her mouth to stifle her cries. Leaning against the rather hideous gargoyle, her shoulders shook as the tears she thought she had already cried when she had been first notified by Albus, came again. Shoulder's shaking in desperation; she could only weep as memory after memory assailed her of her time with the deceased Gryffindors. It could have been 10 minutes or 20, but time was lost on the Gryffindor Head of House as the nights pain overwhelmed her. When she did finally calm down, it was to a mind desperate to see the child prized by two of her former students.

'I will just have to find where Lily's sister lives,' she thought confidently to herself, 'after all, what is the use of having former students as Unspeakables if I cannot use them to my advantage.'

Two hours later a triumphant Minerva McGonagall settled down to a long days wait on a wall outside a Muggle residence, complete with four paws, whiskers, cat ears, fur and a tail.

Back at Hogwarts, the saddened form of the most powerful Light Wizard in the world, settled himself into his chair for a few hours rest; young Harry's newly transfigured cot right beside him. Memories chased him into his light oblivion, especially the recent one of a grieving deputy Head-mistress.

* * *

**My Hagrid is tragic, bear with me. If you can write better, let me know, and I'll kindly tell you where you can shove it. **

**Cheers.**

**Thank you for Reading and reviewing.**


	4. A Mother's Love

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**A Mother's Love.**

Three forms stood, silently dismayed and distraught, looking down upon the darkened steps of Number 4 Privet Drive. Each wordlessly saying their heartfelt goodbyes and well wishes to the young child they would probably not see again for 10 years. The largest of the forms turned around slowly, reluctantly and unsteadily walking the straight line towards the Motorcycle he had come in. The two remaining hesitated for a while longer before the tall figure in the centre, bent down and placed an envelope on the bundle in the front of the wooden door. He, just like the first man, turned and walked slowly but steadily away from the building before being enveloped in the unnatural fog. The remaining figure, crouched down low, and pressing her fingertips to her lips, she transferred the whispers of a kiss on to the cheek of the inhabitant of the blankets. She too disappeared, in its place stood a Tabby Cat, who gave one last look of farewell and longing towards the bundle on the steps, before rushing away.

Somewhere within the fog, points of light which had only thirty minutes before graced the street lamps, appeared once again, shooting out from the distance. The remains of a whispered blessing was carried on the wind, and then followed by nothing more but silence broken up by the howling and barking of distant dogs.

Even with the disappearance of the strangers the thick fog remained, hovering around the glade of trees at the end of the street. In direct contrast to the perfectly maintained homes of that street, it seemed unnatural, ghostly and supernatural. Not at all ordinary or normal like the inhabitants would want it to be.

Across the road from the bundle, a grandfather clock chimed, its sinister tones ushering in the witching hour. As if on cue, the unnatural mist started to shift and spread. The thick cloud spread like tendrils across the impeccably manicured lawns, over the flawlessly polished cars, and expanded across the entire width of the street. The inhabitants within slept peacefully, unaware of the goings on outside, ignorant of the paranormal phenomenon occurring on their lawns.

The cloudy vapour came to stop before the door with the large, brass number four displayed proudly on its wooden frame. From within the thick mist, a female figure stepped out and then crouched down before the bundle of blankets, she paused for barely a second before lovingly raising the child and its blankets into the cradle of her arms. Placing a tender kiss on the child's head, she turned and stepped quickly back into the centre of the mist. The cloud, finally completing what it had set out to do, receded as slowly as it advanced, before disappearing altogether, right into the glade of trees.

If anyone had been watching that night, not only would they have seen the strange behaviour of the fog, but they would also swear that they saw a flash of red and gold flames somewhere within the trees. Strangely enough they would never have remembered the bizarre events come morning.

* * *

The nursery was a beautiful one. An antique cot sat in the centre of the room, surrounded by curtains of royal blue silk. Teddy bears on picnics and fairies in playful flight graced the walls of the room. A small shelf on one wall was full to bursting of teddy bears and stuffed toys in the form of dragons and lions, the shelf beneath that were littered with picture books, toys and soft jigsaws, perfect for small infants still learning not to eat everything on sight. All around the room were candles, softly lighting and warming the atmosphere within in a way that electric lights never could. One couldn't help but notice the love and devotion that had gone into preparing the room; it certainly didn't look like a room created in less then 10 hours.

A beautiful woman with black waist-length hair and vivid violet eyes, swept into the room, a young child cradled in her arms. Humming a melody she rocked and hugged the young fretful baby to sleep. He had just been fed, and had his diaper changed, but the young one knew he was no longer home, and the changes were making him very uneasy.

"…little baby don't say a word," she sang softly, smiling caringly down at the huge yawn screwing up the little one's face.

Another woman entered, her ivory countenance a very huge contrast to the other woman's dark colouring, she had red hair, and every now and then, the lights within the room would shine gold in her hair.

_Precious baby, he's missing his mama, _the red-head telepathically sent towards the singing female.

With a mental nod and a sad shake of her head she telepathically agreed. _He'll take a while to settle in, but I think he'll be alright. In as much as I want to use telepathy to calm him down, Shea, I think it might be too soon while he's so unsettled._

_We still have four hours before going to ground, Raven…it seems wrong of us to leave him with Gary so soon after bringing him over. I know that Gary will be great…but…_

_He's just sleeping at the moment, whatever happened last night seemed to have exhausted him…but I think the next few days will be crucial to him…I've never been so scared in my life…_

_You'll be fine Raven…We'll be fine…_

Standing up carefully, Raven placed her new son carefully into his cot, he moved around a few times in his sleep, but she quickly and gently tucked the soft cotton blankets around him.

Looking down at him with a mixture of love and worry in her expressive face, she gave a silent prayer that he'd be alright, and then added a second one for Lily's help.

Sighing quietly, she blew out half the candles in the room and then followed Shea out of the room.

Watching Harry's new mother leave, the translucent form of Lily Potter sat down in the rocking chair next to her son's cot. Her beloved son, sensing her presence turned in his sleep to face her, little hand blindingly reaching out towards her. Laying a ghostly hand on his, she hummed a lullaby and watched her son settle down once more. The little baby, hearing the familiar tones slipped into his first easy sleep in days, safe and loved. His mama's spirit, perceiving this, bent over him and placed a whispery kiss on his cheek, his forehead and then finally on the little cherubic mouth. Speaking softly into his ear, she put him at ease, she gave him love, and she made him promises of all the love yet to come. Harry murmured in his sleep, and sucked on his lower lip, his mind turning her words into comfort and acceptance for the worried woman in the next room. Lily, indulging herself one last time placed soft kisses on her sons face, and then with a sigh knowing that she had done all that she could for Raven Dubrinsky, placed her son's life and future in the hands of the powers above and faded into the air.

Young Harry merely turned in his sleep, and whimpered "Mama" into the empty room.

_When her days on earth are over,  
a mother's love lives on...  
through many generations,  
with God's blessings on each one._

_Jill Lemming_

* * *

**Grieving people, lots of people are grieving. The chapter is mushy I know, but I like it, so it stays. We'll get on with the actual story eventually, but I'm going to indulge my rather sad self. One more chapter of sadness and we can move on and get over it.**

**Next chapter (which you can skip if you don't want any more sad parts):**

**Sirius finds out that Dumbledore has given his Godson to someone, and won't tell him who. And the Wizarding world takes one small step towards healing by descending on Mass into Godrics Hollow for the Remembrance, Blessing, Cleansing and the Renewal.**

**Somewhere in the next four or so chapters:**

**Harry grows up, gets into trouble, and gets kidnapped. **

**Thank you for Reading. And thank you to my first four reviewers:**

**_Donna ficfan, Heather, Jensindenial3516, _and _K._**


	5. Life Among the Ruins

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**Life among the Ruins**

Sirius raced through the back streets of London like a dog possessed, his four legs pumping and teeth barred, he paused every now and then to sniff out the air just to make sure he was on the right path. The scent he was pursuing was still fresh, meaning that his victim had only been through these pathways less then half an hour before. Barrelling under another shopping stall and startling its owner, he dived around another bend, and then hesitated to sniff…..No. Wrong way. Taking the opposite path he found the trail that he needed and chased after it again.

His mind was in turmoil. Anger. Overwhelming grief. Denial. Hatred. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. The refrain searing his brain, clouding his judgement. He'd been up for almost 40 hours, he was physically exhausted, but every time he thought to turn back, to go back to Harry, he would smell 'him' again. And then it'd start all over again. Adrenalin was his only fuel now, Adrenalin and revenge.

Peter Pettigrew. How the hell could he?

The name played over and over in his mind, blood boiling and heart thumping with every thought. He was going to rip him into pieces when he found him. Merlin's prayer, he hated the rat enough to utter those dark words, the very same one that took his best friend.

Skidding to a halt abruptly, he inhaled carefully and visibly whimpered as if burned. His stood hunched, hackles raised as he growled low and dangerous, upsetting and scaring the few homeless muggles that were living in the short dead-end street.

Changing back into his human form he stood and looked around wildly. Eyes wide, wand out. He ignored the muggles that had gasped, shocked and terrified at his appearance, some visibly backing away and hunching into themselves.

"Come out, come out Peter," he yelled into the air, anger and disgust fairly dripping out in his words. "I know you're here…..I can smell you!"

Looking around again, he waited, breathing harshly and unsteadily.

"Come on Peter! You cowardly Bastard! Face me you Son-of-a-bitch!" he screamed at the walls, his voice echoing in the street.

An occupant of a pile of old newspapers peaked out from his makeshift shelter, and finding his courage somewhere he decided to answer the really angry man with the stick.

"You aint gonna fin' Pet'r here. There be a Pet'r do'n in Crinlan St, near Kin's Cross."

The angry black haired man turned suddenly towards the talking homeless, wand extended, narrowing his eyes he looked the old beggar over and then dismissed him.

Whirling around he angrily blasted a rubbish dump near the end of the street. Startled rats spewed forth, in the hurry to get away from the danger. Rubbish fell heavily from the mangled dumpster on to the already filthy cockroach infested ground.

Sirius ignored all this as he started stupefying and blasting the scurrying rats. Bright red streams of curses seemed to literally pour from his wand connecting with innocent and confused rats. So involved was he of his cursing spree that he did not hear the tell-tale 'pop' of a wizard apparating in. His only warning that he and the illusive Peter were no longer the only Wizards in the block was when he was hit in the back with a Petrifying charm.

Lying face down in the ground, he was consumed with anger. He had let his guard down and someone had managed to attack him from behind, Peter was going to pay dearly when he managed to fight this spell. He tensed internally as he felt a pair of hands turn him over until he was staring into a pair of familiar brown eyes.

_Emmeline? _He thought confused. She must have been able to read his eyes because a small smile graced her face before nodding and with a flick of her wrist, her wand produced the symbol of the members of the Order. Sighing heavily she looked around and then looked down at him, with something akin to rebuke lighting her eyes.

"Let's go Black, I've already contacted the Oblivators and they'll be here a few seconds."

No sooner had she said this then popping could be heard, and the heavy steps of another Wizard. The Wizard paused, and then he whistled.

"You sure don't do things by half Sirius."

_Kingsley. Trust Emmeline to contact a member of the Order._

Standing up, the brown-eyed female shook hands with the dark-skinned Auror, smiling in relief.

"It's good to see you Kinglsey. Young Sirius here almost blew up half the street, as you can see; the only casualties are a few unfortunate Rats. I have to get him Dumbledore."

Nodding to each other in farewell, Emmeline removed a port-key their leader had given her and touching it to the still petrified animagus, they disappeared out of the street leaving their Order Colleague to do his work.

* * *

"….so you see? I thought it would be the best idea. No-one would have assumed he could have been secret keeper…Nobody!"

Dumbledore watched with much melancholy as the young black-haired auror paced in agitation, grief and guilt emanating off him in waves as he explained how it had all gone so horribly wrong. He nodded in understanding when the troubled young man uttered 'Nobody' with such fervour.

"Come Sirius, have a seat, you are making me dizzy with your pacing," he said lightly, trying to dispel the gloom that weighed heavily on the other's shoulders.

Once he had sat down, the wizened headmaster leaned forward, hands clasped on his desk, the very image of power, calm and control.

"I could tell you Sirius over and over again that James and Lily's death are no fault of yours, but it will mean absolutely nothing unless you are willing to believe it. So therefore I will not try. But I need you to remember that I did not agree with your assessment, and that I have never taken you to blame." Waiting for the small nod of agreement, which he received, he leaned back into his chair and contemplated Sirius over his half-moon glasses.

"I believe that there is the matter of one Mr Remus J Lupin who will need to hear what has occurred from a friend? All he knows Sirius is that James and Lily are dead. I decided that it would be better for him to hear everything else, including the events concerning the Secret Keeper, from you."

"I'll talk to Remus soon, but I want to see Harry first," Sirius answered, looking around like he expected Harry to waddle out of a hidden doorway any minute.

The twinkle in the elder wizard's blue eyes, which had come back at the mention of the little boy's name, dimmed somewhat while watching the eager godfather.

"You will not be able to see Harry, Sirius," he told the 21-year-old calmly.

Sirius misunderstanding his answer nodded in agreement.

"You're right, Harry's probably having a nap, where is he anyway. I'll go and see him when he wakes." His forehead wrinkled in anticipation as he waited for his answer.

Heaving a sad sigh, Albus silently summoned the two parchments that he had placed in his magical safe. As he waited for the documents to reach him he gave his reply to the somewhat impatient gentleman. He had known that this time would come and it was best to get all the anger out.

"Harry is not here Sirius. You will not be able to see him. I am afraid that you….I…will not be able to see him again for quite sometime."

Sirius' face screwed up in mystification, eyes reflecting his uncertainty. "What on earth are you talking about; Hagrid was the one who took him from me. I thought he was bringing him here? If he's not here, then where is he?"

He watched as the headmaster unrolled one of the scrolls that he had summoned, and tapped his wand to it to flatten it out. Laying the now official looking Parchment onto his desk he motioned towards it. "I suggest you read this, my boy."

Searching the old-man's face for an answer and finding none, Sirius bent his head towards the document and read, stomach clenching in apprehension, anxiety rising to unknown levels.

Nothing was said for the following long minutes as he read through it, he hesitated at the end of the document, jaw hardening, before reading through it again. Half-way through the document he stopped, the disbelief he had felt after the first read through was now replaced with overwhelming hostility and some small semblance of shock. Hands shaking unsteadily, he placed the first document on the table and reached out for the second.

His eyes widened as he glanced at the title of the legal document, and no longer deluding himself that he contained a single façade of control, he launched to his feet and brought his fist crashing down onto the ancient table.

"No!...I won't let you do this….he is **my **godson. Mine! You have no right……absolutely no justification to do……this," he screamed waving the now crumpled parchment in his hands.

Eyes reflecting his sorrow, he continued with his tirade, injecting all the desperation and angst that he had into his tone, "I trusted you!...When I gave him to Hagrid….I trusted you!...to bring him here! Where you are…..you can't do this to me…you can't do this to Harry….he needs me!"

Seeing that his tone and his words were having no effect on the headmaster, angered Sirius beyond a point that he never thought he could have ever attained, and so he lashed out with words, wishing to rattle him and cause him as much pain as he had given him. Tone full of loathing and venom, the disappointments and revulsion that he had faced in the past 72 hours came full circle and rushed out of him in waves.

"You!...you sit there," he spat out frigidly, "having failed Lily and James. I bet your so happy now aren't you! The great Albus Dumbledore has found a way to make sure Harry Potter will always….always!...be under his influence! You sit there….swimming in your failure!

Is this it then Headmaster! Is this how you plan to repent then? Or is this just another way that you…..you fucking manipulative son-of-a-bitch….c-can influence…..you are nothing Dumbledore! Hear that you bastard! Nothing! You're nothing but a fraud."

And having yelled his last malicious words into the elder Wizard's face, he span on his heals and stalked heavily out of the room, pausing at the door he turned back around, face heavy with emotion he fired one last parting shot.

"I'm going to find a way…..you watch….by the end of this week Harry will be back with me!...I'll make sure that you never fail Harry the way you failed his parents…and don't you ever think that you'll ever come near him again!"

The door of the Headmaster's Office slammed shut as he walked off, but inside, the sole occupant of the room was distraught and tortured.

Five days later the mood of the Magical community was just as sombre as the grieving Godfather, though for very different reasons. It was a very stark contrast to the celebratory atmosphere which had followed the defeat of the Dark Lord, if anything; the ambience had regressed back to its previous seriousness – although not as dire. The cause for the sudden mood swing had been, of course, the headline of the morning's newspapers.

_HUSBAND-WIFE AUROR TEAM, TORTURED INTO INSANITY._

_DEATH-EATERS TORTURE COUPLE. "THEY'RE AS GOOD AS DEAD" SAY'S HEALERS._

_NOT AS SAFE AS WE THOUGHT: TOP AUROR'S TORTURED INTO MADNESS._

The inhabitants of the magical school had woken to the news that Frank and Alice Longbottom had been attacked by Death-Eaters in the night, and then tortured with an unforgivable – the Cruciatus Curse.

For the Headmaster, the news was met with just as much sorrow, guilt and negative emotion that had enveloped the deaths at Godrics Hollow, especially as once again, he wondered why he didn't prevent it. Frank Longbottom had decided to lift the Fidelius charm on his house, wanting to come out of hiding, figuring that they were safe. He had ignored the warnings of both Dumbledore and Alastor Moody – who had been there Secret Keeper, and had advanced with the dismantling of the wards. The fact that the decision had all been the Longbottom's did nothing to ease the self-blame that continued to plague the old Wizard, especially as Sirius' words still played heavily in his mind.

For Sirius however, the Longbottom's demise gave him reason to doubt his tenaciousness in trying to get his Godson back. He hadn't been successful much, as he had severely underestimated just how much respect and reverence the headmaster received – but this wasn't the reason why he now doubted himself. His uncertainty arose from the fact that although Voldemort was gone, his servants still ran around unchecked and unhindered. The Longbottom's had been one of Britains top aurors, they were no easy target, yet if the headlines were to be believed, 'they were as good as dead'. His Godson was just a baby. If he eventually (and miraculously, a small voice whispered from the recesses of his brain) succeeded in overturning the Guardianship papers, as well as Dumbledore's authority in granting it, his 24 hour/seven days a week protection of Harry may well never be enough. And it scared him.

He had regretted his harsh words to the headmaster the minute he had woken up the next day, but his pride and no little amount of anger had kept him from crawling back and apologising. His friendship with Remus had healed somewhat, yet his friend had refrained from commenting on his fervour to reclaim his godson, but Sirius had no doubt that the lycan did not agree with his actions. Since the headlines that morning, he had started to wonder if among Dumbledore's reasons for handing Harry over to some complete unknown was the threat to his safety. If it was, and Sirius had an incredibly bad feeling that it was so, then he had seriously fucked up completely. He had accused the most Powerful Wizard in the world of being manipulative (which he might have been, but never for anything bad) and then of being a failure – which any fool could **never** have assumed from his list of accomplishments.

Thinking it over (which took all of ½ an hour); he determined to swallow the bullet and head back to Hogwarts to discover the rationale behind the venerable wizard's actions, and if necessary, apologise. Steeling himself, he apparated to the edges of the Hogwarts wards, and proceeded most reluctantly towards the school itself.

Two hours later he left the school feeling very repentant, somewhat embarrassed, but never more agreeable that letting Harry go was the best thing to ever happen to anyone. As Albus had informed him, Harry was safe. Harry was cared for. But most importantly, Harry was Loved.

* * *

It took almost another week for the magical population to feel some semblance of safety. The heavy sentences handed to former death-eaters helped, so did the comforting presence of Aurors patrolling the four heavily crowded magical shopping towns – Diagon Alley, Pruidton, Hogsmead and Puddlemere. Their presence coupled with the increase of bargain hunters only helped to reinforce the return to normality.

As Lady Bagnold had predicted, she received an overwhelming amount of owls from people enquiring about the young saviour. And keeping to her promise to Dumbledore, she informed them that he was safe, loved, and cared for. A few people, including some rather unsavoury characters (Lucius Malfoy among them) had attempted to force the Ministry to reveal the child's location – all in the name of public interest of course, hiding behind the veneer of concern and apprehension. Albus was obligated to intervene following an attempted assassination on the Ministry Head by an obsessed witch.

Weeks turned into months, and Remus believed it safe enough to breach the idea of having a memorial ceremony at the Godric Ruins. Sirius supported the idea, yet with much scepticism pertaining to the muggle idea of 'closure'. Together with members of the Order they began to plan the ceremony, and the rituals that would be involved. All rites involving 'sole survivors' were vetoed as Albus emphatically stated that young Harry would not attend since it would involve a huge security operation that an event as hallowed as the one they were planning could never cater to.

The idea that the ceremony would be attended by close friends and colleagues slowly drifted off course as more and more people were informed. All those that didn't know as the date came closer were told through the various Wizarding media. Many celebrities made it known that they would be there, among them Celestina Warbeck who composed a song relating to young Harry – a song that Sirius had authorised her to sing at the conclusion of the ceremony.

The week before the ceremony it was obvious that at least half of the magical population would be in attendance, the Ministry were forced to create a reason to evacuate the surrounding muggle area so that the Observance could go ahead and alterations could be made. So for eight days, the muggles within the locale were told that there was a sewage and chemical leak in the area which was affecting the drinking waters and may endanger their health since they weren't entirely sure of wind currents, they were evacuated to a nearby town, allowing the Magical ministry to put weak notice-me-not charms around the entrances into the region as well as apparition and port-key points. Any other stronger wards would have interfered with the magic performed within the ceremony.

The day of the Ceremony dawned, and almost as if the god's were in complete agreement with the mood of the day, the weather was cold and cloudy – but it didn't look like rain, and it certainly didn't look like thunderclouds either.

Members of the Order of the Phoenix arrived at Godric's Hollow at 7am to find almost 300 people already there waiting, the ceremony wasn't due to start until 11am. Houses surrounding the Potter's residence had been destroyed (without the use of magic) and the area flattened using muggle machinery to make room for the huge number of people descending into the area. Ministry workers and volunteers had been working non-stop for almost five days to ready the district, and almost 250 homes had been destroyed. No possessions had been removed from the houses before the destruction began, for as soon as the ceremony was over the Ministry Correction department would start magically repairing all homes back to its original state – including all possessions within.

By 10am another 75 homes had been decimated to make room for the already overflowing congregation, and still in the distance, the Order could make out people apparating and port-keying in. A quick meeting was held and it was agreed to postpone the ceremony until noon, to give the hard-pressed ministry workers time to decimate a few more houses.

As Albus looked down at his watch, its planets and stars aligned in the configuration that indicated that it was noon, he walked up to the platform erected alongside the destruction and lit the five candles situated on the small table, starting the first of the rituals. His voice, pitched low and magically amplified, chanted the Latin words, pausing with each candle as those observing repeated after him.

* * *

_**- Taken from "Remembering the Dead" **(1)_

_Creating the Ritual Candles_

_There must be five; each candle must contain something representing the five stages of the deceased's life. Birth. Infancy. Youth. Maturity. Death._

_If it is a young child who has passed on, then the light representing Maturity can be changed to the' light of Expectation', in which case whatever is used in the making of the candle must be something that symbolises the expectations for the young one._

**_Commeminisse – To remember fully_**

_The first Ritual will always be the 'Commeminisse'. The beginning of the ritual will always start with the lighting of the candles, starting with Birth, and ending with Death. With each candle lit, the conductor of the ceremony (from here on out will be referred to as the Observer) will chant **"****teneo, tenere, tenui, tentum" **(roughly translated: to preserve, to understand, to contain, to remember), in which those in attendance will repeat._

_The lighting of the candles symbolises the gathering of the spirits, those that have guided the deceased in his endeavours, the latin phrase "teneo, tenere, tenui, tentum" is an oath to the guardians that those gathered understand the importance of a spirit 'moving on'._

_The candles are kept alight until the last of ritual has been done. Should any candle flicker out during the ceremony it is important that the Lighting ritual be repeated. ._

_The second part of the Commeminisse is the "Expurgo", or the purifying of the minds. This ritual acts as a clean slate between those who seek to find closure with the deceased. If there had been a feud whilst living and those in attendance need to find solace within their memories, then this ritual acts as that connection._

_Expurgo starts with the Observer washing his hands in water vessel. The vessel can be anything, but please note, the best symbolisation for 'memories' will always be a Pensieve, so if one can be found for the ceremony then use it. While the Observer washes his hands the congregation will chant **"Aufer a nobis, iniquitates nostras ut ad Sancta sanctorum puris mereamur mentibus introir. Oramus te." **(Take away from us, that we may enter with pure minds into the Holy of Holies. We beseech you)_

_The Observor is acting as the representative of the congregation, the washing of hands is the representation of the washing away of all ill will and memories associated with pain, focusing only on understanding that it had happened, and that now is the time that it needs to be acknowledged and then forgotten._

_With the Washing of hands complete, the Observer will cup the water in his hands and lift it above him, so as to let it cascade and flow from his hands down into the vessel. He will do this five times in which he will chant: **"Vidi aquam, Asperges me, et mundabor"** (I saw water coming, Thou shalt sprinkle me, and I shall be cleansed). On the fifth, the congregation shall repeat with him._

* * *

As he let the water flow through his fingers again, Albus listened as the voices of the magical people joined his in the refrain. Then finishing the second part of the ritual he lightly shook his wet hands towards the West, East, the North and finally the South. Holding up his hand, he gestured lightly, and with a rumble everyone went down on their knees in prayer. They stayed this way for almost ten minutes, waiting for the Hogwarts headmaster to rise first.

* * *

_Every Observer must give his congregation time for personal entreaty – a mental form of a written letter between the attending and the deceased. As a sign of respect to the deities as well as the Guardian spirits in attendance, it must be given on your knees. Five minutes should be enough time, but where the congregation is large and varied, then ten minutes should be sufficient without irritating the Guardians. The first person to rise should always be the Observer, and when he has done so he should lead the congregation in thanking the Guardians of the watchtowers. First bow to the North, then to the South, From the East, and then to the West. Once done all must say, **"****Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum."** (As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end.)_

_So ends the second part of the Commeminisse, and so starts the third and last. This is where the Observer will remain seated and members of the deceased family and/or friends will deliver what muggles call a 'eulogy' for the deceased. This is a newer practice, having been introduced only one hundred years ago to accommodate the large number of muggle-borns and muggle influenced communities who wished to involve this practice within the sanctity of the rituals. Somewhere within their acclamation the words **"beatae memoriae"** (of blessed memory) must be said._

_Once all eulogies have been brought forth, the Observer will once again take control of the ceremony. A short prayer in whatever language you should want will follow, and then the Commeminisse will end with the words: " **requiescat in pace" **(rest in peace), to be said by the entire congregation._

_It is here that the candles should be blown out by the Observer, should another ceremony follow on then 'Birth' must be kept alight until the very end, and excluded at this moment._

* * *

Albus Dumbledore waited until the huge crowd settled down before speaking, mentally he thanked the Gods that it wasn't a sunny day or else everyone would be a whole lot more flustered.

"So we have come to the end of the Commeminisse. We remembered two lives that were tragically lost here, and with respect, also remember other lives that were lost during the last ten years. We remember those that have not died, yet have suffered horrendously due to the followers of the dark. We remember, because in our grief it is what we must do. We remember in the hope that we learn. That we can find a way of preventing it from ever happening again.

_Via Dolorosa_, it is the way of Sorrow.

Let us pray, for the blessings upon these ruins. Let us say to Guardians of the watchtowers "These ruins are the representation of our despair. This is our symbol of fear, of our ultimate fall. It is dark; it is terrifying and it is intimidating to comprehend. Yet among these ruins, and rising like a phoenix from the ashes, we found our salvation. We found our hope.

Bless us, Goddess. And like the ground on which these ruins lay, may the grass and wildflowers grow again, embracing us in the new beginning that marks this day."

Concluding his speech, Albus looked around the watching faces of the wizarding population, bowed his head in respect, and then blew out the last candle that had _'ORTUS' _etched into it – _Birth._

A tear trailed down the old man's face and then raising his head, he spread his hands wide and gave his last blessing, "_Vade in Pace". _

He left the platform and joined his Order of the Phoenix members in tossing a handful of seeds onto the ruins, and then they united with the rest of the magical population in listening to the magical voice of Celestina Warbeck as she sang her newest song. (2)

Sometimes the world we live in is uncertain  
in a moment what's known can slip away.  
And we feel as we walk among the ruin  
our hope dwindle as we greet the coming day.

Faces full of tears, such pain and desperation  
you can almost feel it blowing in the air.  
Clouds billowing, a cold and sad reminder  
of what stood, but is no longer there.

Hands out reaching to soothe the broken hearted  
we can't see beyond the tears for the lost souls.  
Terror's wrath forever etched inside our hearts now  
we question if we ever will feel whole.

And then I heard a baby's cry among the ruin  
as I thought about that tiny, gentle life  
my heart told me that we could not let this wee one  
grow up in a world of terror, fear and strife.  
So we must gather round the waterfall of our tears  
and hold each other's hearts within our own.  
The children of tomorrow must feel safe here  
for there still is no place dearer than our home.

We will dig our way through acts of pure destruction  
eyes full of tears but heads held high with pride.  
And though tomorrow seems like it will take forever  
the sun will rise on this great country, freedom shines.

When I lay my weary head upon my pillow  
and pray to God to help us as we grieve.  
I have to know within my heart that we'll recover  
if I don't, what are the young ones to believe?

And then I heard a baby's cry among the ruin  
as I thought about that tiny, gentle life  
my heart told me that we could not let this wee one  
grow up in a world of terror, fear and strife.  
So we must gather round the waterfall of our tears  
and hold each other's hearts within our own.  
The children of tomorrow must feel safe here  
for there still is no place dearer than our home.

**

* * *

**

**O.k…I swear, this is the last chapter with any grieving in it for a very long time…I think. Thank you to all those who reviewed. It's much appreciated, and kudos to those who have actually read Christine Feehan's books, we have kindred spirits.**

**(1) I made this entire ritual up, but many of the Latin phrases I've taken from the Remembrance Liturgy for Catholic masses. I apologise if I've offended anyone with it, but I had to get my Latin phrases from somewhere.**

**(2) This is actually a poem. A real one. It's called 'A baby's cry among the ruins' and it's written by Ellen Dubois. There is no way in hell I could have attempted to string two sentences together and even attempted to write a song, so I had to borrow from someone else. If by some miracle that Ms Dubois even stumbled across this, then I'd first like to say thank you for writing such a wonderful poem, and then 'sorry' for butchering it in this context.**


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